


living love in slow motion

by ashavahishta



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cuddles, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2782928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashavahishta/pseuds/ashavahishta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a typical Sunday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	living love in slow motion

Louis wakes to warmth.

 

It’s late in the morning, light spilling over the pale blue sheets that Harry favours on their bed in the summer. There’s a breeze coming in through the open window, and it passes pleasantly over Louis’ face, ruffling his hair slightly. He’s pressed up against Harry’s back, nose tucked into his lovely curls so he gets to breathe in Harry’s scent on every inhale. Harry is warm in his arms and the pattern of his breathing (shallow, with a cute little snuffle every now and then) tells Louis that he’ll awaken soon.

 

He closes his eyes again and allows himself to enjoy the rare peace of the moment. He absorbs every detail - the warmth of the sunlight on his skin, the way the air feels in his hair, the sound of Harry’s soft breathing. The sheets smell like home; a combination of their shampoos and colognes, the fresh scent of laundry powder. Louis’ hand is spread over Harry’s torso, his palm flat against the skin of his stomach with his pinky tucked under the waistband of Harry’s briefs.

 

When Harry starts to wake up, he doesn’t speak. He makes another devastatingly cute snuffling noise, shifts and then rolls, turning his body so that his face tucks in against Louis’ neck. Their legs tangle together and Louis kisses Harry’s hair, his lips curling up into a smile.

 

There’s a dreamy, soft quality to these mornings that Louis always treasures. He loves the unspoken communication between their bodies, the way they can pass messages through warm touches and soft breaths. He says _good morning_ with his hand resting gently on Harry’s lower back. Harry says _hi baby_ with his nose nuzzling against Louis’ throat.

 

Still half asleep, they lay together in the morning light for a long time. They exchange kisses like gifts; pressed quiet and loving to soft skin. Eventually they work their way up to talking in raspy half-sentences, giggling at silly little jokes and whispering endearments to one another.

 

Eventually their quiet is interrupted, by a soft whining noise from the floor at the end of the bed. Beneath him, Harry’s smile lights up his face and Louis gives a rueful grin before ducking to peck Harry’s nose. “Hey, that lasted a bit longer than yesterday.”

 

“He’s learning,” Harry says solemnly, tracing patterns on Louis’ bare back with his fingers. “Let’s get him up, c’mon.”

 

“You know we’re not supposed to encourage him getting on the furniture,” Louis protests futilely.

 

“Look at that face,” Harry pouts at him and looks at the end of the bed. A fluffy brown head appears, ears perked in interest. As soon as he sees them, Bruce starts whining louder and more insistent, positively quivering with anticipation.

 

Louis melts. “Alright, alright. C’mon up, Brucie. C’mon!”

 

Immediately, the dog leaps onto the bed and bounds towards them. His entire body is wiggling in excitement and he snuffles happily at them, nudging his wet nose into their skin. Louis laughs in delight and starts petting and scratching their pup, touching his soft floppy ears and kissing his nose. Harry is cuddling up too, murmuring nonsense baby talk. “Hi Brucie baby, hi wigglebum, did you have a good sleep do you want belly scratches yes you doooo.”

 

Bruce is in doggy heaven, flat on his back between the two boys, smothered with cuddles. Louis watches fondly as Harry squirms around to play with the dog, his floppy curls a perfect match with Bruce’s soft fur.

 

“You know, sometimes I think you love that dog more than you love me,” Louis teases lightly.

 

Not looking up, Harry coos, “I do, I love him more than anything.”

 

Louis huffs. “Well, I guess I’ll just give you two some time alone then, shall I?”

 

He starts to leave the bed but doesn’t get very far before gangly arms wrap around his waist and he’s wrestled back to the bed, flopping onto Harry’s body. Louis laughs, warmth furling in his chest as Harry peppers kisses to the back of his neck. Bruce barks in excitement and his fluffy tail wags madly back and forth.

 

A brief yet intense tickling/wrestling match ensues. The outcome is the same as always - Harry lets Louis win despite his obvious height and weight advantage, and Louis pins his fiancé to the bed with a triumphant smirk.

 

Unsurprisingly, Harry does not appear too upset about this turn of events. He stretches languidly beneath Louis and smirks right back. His hands twitch where Louis has his wrists pinned to the pillow, but he makes no effort to escape. Their eyes catch, Louis becoming very aware of the warmth of Harry’s body beneath him.  His smirk deepens. Harry raises an eyebrow and rolls his hips slightly, reminding Louis that they’re both wearing very little clothing.

 

He leans down to press his lips against Harry’s for the first time today. It’s chaste; Louis is not a fan of morning breath and Harry is well aware of this - but the sweetness of the closed-mouth kiss has Louis smiling. He moves from Harry’s lips to kiss his cheek, the corner of his eye, his nose, the indent of his dimple when Harry smiles up at him. That smile - the flash of teeth, bright glow of love in Harry’s green eyes - it makes Louis’ breath catch.

 

“Baby,” he murmurs fondly, causing Harry’s smile to widen and his eyelashes to flutter prettily. “Angel,” Louis adds, kissing Harry’s other cheek. It’s warm against his lips and Louis realises that Harry is blushing in pleasure. “Darling,” he coos, because he’s completely helpless to the warm rush of affection that he gets every time he looks at Harry. He doesn’t always get the opportunity to act on it. When they have time together like this Louis always makes sure that his boy feels as special and loved as he is.

 

“Lou,” Harry squirms and giggles, but he’s preening under the attention and that’s exactly what Louis wants to see.

 

“Why...are...you...so...cute?” Louis asks, punctuating each word with a kiss to Harry’s face as the other boy beams up at him. It’s a question he asks himself several times a day. Louis doesn’t know how he survives without melting into a puddle of goo every time Harry dimples in his general direction.

 

Blinking big green eyes at him, Harry tilts his head up for another kiss. “I was born this way,” he confesses against Louis’ mouth.

 

“Then I have some very strong words for a certain Mrs Anne Twist.”

 

Harry giggles. This does not help Louis feel any less like a puddle of goo. He flops down against Harry’s chest and nuzzles into his neck, pressing sweet tickling kisses everywhere he can reach so Harry squirms and giggles again. Louis feels a sudden warmth at his side and knows that Bruce has plonked his big fluffy body right next to him, his chin resting on Louis’ hip.

 

“Well aren’t we a sight,” he comments lightly. He can imagine what they must look like - all tangled together and cuddled up in the soft sheets, bathed in sunlight. The thought makes him smile; this - he and Harry, their pup - is the beginning of their family.

 

“We make a cute family,” Harry says softly, reading Louis’ mind as he so often does.  His arms draw Louis closer and there’s warm lips being pressed to his forehead. Louis’ eyes close in pleasure.

 

“S’only the beginning, my darling.”

  
  


They’re quiet for awhile; the comfortable silence that comes from being with somebody that you trust implicitly. Louis focuses on the feel of Harry’s chest rising and falling against his cheek, daydreaming about a not-so-distant future where their children will join in on morning cuddles.

 

Finally, he decides it’s time to get up (or perhaps his craving for tea and breakfast decides for him.) He shifts up to lean on one elbow, cupping his cheek in his palm as he looks down at Harry. “What do you want to do today, babe?”

 

“Well, it’s Sunday,” Harry begins slowly. Louis gives him a patient smile and settles in for what is surely going to be at least five minutes of Harry rambling about his plans for the day.

 

Nearly everyone who knows them has, at some point, mentioned something to Louis about the way that Harry speaks. He knows that for others, Harry’s slow drawl and apparent inability to reach a point with anything approaching brevity can be irritating. He knows that people occasionally get impatient or tune out Harry’s voice.

 

Louis has never, ever had a problem with it. He loves everything about Harry’s speech; how his beautiful mouth shapes words, the tone and depth of his voice, the thought he puts behind everything he says. As well as he knows that a lot of what Harry says is superfluous, Louis always hangs on his every word. He supposes it’s a side effect of being helplessly in love with him.

 

So he listens as Harry details exactly what he wants to do today, the short list (gym, dog-walking, shopping, watching the footy and cooking dinner) stretching out due to the three stories and five terrible jokes that he decides to add in.

 

As Harry speaks, Louis manages to drag the two of them out of bed and into the shower, hustling Bruce outside and closing the bedroom door in the process. They brush their teeth under the spray and Louis has barely any trouble interpreting Harry’s garbled words as he speaks around the brush in his mouth. It should maybe be disturbing, how in tune they are with one another, but Louis takes pride in it.

 

“...so we’ll tell Zayn and Perrie to get here around eight and the roast should be ready by half-past,” Harry finally finishes with a grin. His fingers are gentle in Louis’ hair as he massages shampoo in for him, making Louis hum in satisfaction.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Louis murmurs. His hands rest lightly on Harry’s hips, thumbs stroking over his fern tattoos every few moments. “Sounds great, bub."

 

He can see the moment that it clicks in Harry’s head that they’ve both finished brushing their teeth. His eyes light up and he grins, swooping down to catch Louis’ mouth in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. Harry always says that if Louis insists they don’t kiss until his morning breath has gone, he better make their first ‘real’ kiss of the day special.

 

Louis thinks that every time Harry kisses him is special.

 

This one, he admits, is especially wonderful. Harry’s lips are so warm and plush against his own, his taste sweet and slightly minty when Louis licks into his mouth. Harry’s lovely hands stroke down Louis’ back and come to rest just above the curve of his arse. Louis’ stomach flutters pleasantly as they kiss, always so affected by Harry. He cups Harry’s face in his hands and smooths his thumbs lovingly over his cheeks.

 

“Baby,” Harry exhales fondly when they part. “Good morning.”

 

Humming in answer, Louis threads his arms around Harry’s neck and nudges him into another soft, sucking kiss. Steam rises around them as Louis tangles his fingers into Harry’s long wet hair, tugging lightly the way Harry likes.

 

“You know what I was thinking?” Harry muses, thumbs digging gently into the dimples at the base of Louis’ spine.

 

“Mm?”

 

“We’ll have our babies in the next couple of years,” he feels Harry smile against his mouth as he says it. Louis’ stomach suddenly feels full of fireworks at the mere mention of it. He wants kids with Harry more than anything.

 

“Yes,” Louis agrees, and does a silly little dance across the tiles when he’s unable to contain his excitement at the words.

 

“- and then we’ll be crazy, busy, messy, exhausted parents who get interrupted by our admittedly adorable kids every time we try to have sex,” Harry’s eyes sparkle, obviously just as excited as Louis at the idea. As he tells Louis at least once a week, _Harry wants babies_.

 

“Right,” Louis indulges, amused and wondering where this line of thought is headed. He presses kisses along Harry’s jawline, nibbling at his skin to make Harry laugh before he continues.

 

“And then, once the kids have finally moved out, we’ll be old and grumpy, and you’ll have to take a pill just to get it up.”

 

“Oi!” Laughter bubbles up from Louis’ mouth and he gives Harry’s nearest nipple an indignant twist. “Why am I the one requiring viagra?”

 

“You’re older,” Harry replies solemnly, his fingers stroking absently over his abused nipple. “You’re more likely to develop performance problems before me. Anyway,” he adds loudly, talking over Louis’ angry huffs of ‘barely two years older’ and ‘I’ll show _you_ performance problems, Curly,’ “My point -”

 

“Can I just interject to say that I’m not sure about this future you’re painting for us here? Too stressed about the kids to shag for twenty years and then apparently too old to shag for the rest of our lives?”

 

“My _point_ -” Harry is nearly shouting at this point, and Louis can tell he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh while Louis grins teasingly at him, mouth twitching with mirth. “Is that we should have as much sex as possible before we fill our house with tiny little cockblocks.” He gives Louis a wide-eyed, earnest look, lashes batting and mouth pouted temptingly.

 

“I resent you calling our future children cockblocks.” Louis presses closer though, hand skimming over Harry’s abs as he speaks.

 

“Lou,” Harry whines. His hands drift to Louis’ arse and spread warm and wide over Louis’ cheeks. Louis twitches at the touch and suppresses the urge to whimper.

 

“So what you’re saying,” Louis surmises eventually, “is that after I dragged you into the shower to get clean, you want to get out of the shower, have filthy morning sex, and then get back in the shower before we can continue with the lovely Sunday you previously described to me.”

 

“Yes.” Harry’s mouth finally stretches in a big, infectious grin. His dimples are deep in his cheeks and his eyes sparkle. Louis is having that ‘turning into a puddle of goo’ problem again.

 

“Oh,” Louis rises on his toes and tugs Harry into a deep, hungry, consuming kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that has his fingers tingling and sparks exploding behind his eyes. Harry’s body jerks in shock before he melts into him, hands clutching roughly at Louis’ skin. They kiss hot and needy for a minute or two. When Louis pulls back, Harry follows his mouth with a quiet whimper, his eyes still closed, cheeks flushed. Louis smirks and surges up to press their mouths together once more. “Why didn’t you say so, baby?”

 

He’s out of the shower before Harry can blink. He doesn’t bother with a towel; just walks, dripping wet and hips swaying, into the bedroom with Harry’s eyes burning holes in his skin.

 

He doesn’t make it to the bed because Harry tackles him from behind, the two of them landing in a pile of laughter and wet, slick limbs. “You,” Harry rumbles, hands scrabbling to try and tickle Louis under his arms. “Drive me fucking _crazy._ ”

 

“In - the - best - ways -!” Louis wheezes with laughter and twists around on the bed to escape Harry’s wandering fingers.

 

Pausing his tickle attack, Harry flops over him and props himself up on one elbow. He leans down to give Louis a smiling kiss. “I love you so much.”

 

Louis strokes wet curls out of Harry’s eyes, his breath catching over how beautiful his boy looks. “I love you more than anything,” he answers, voice soft. “And I can’t wait for mess and noise and kids running everywhere and bickering over who needs to feed the dog.”

 

Harry’s mouth quirks into a soft smile. “We already do that.” He kisses Louis again, the tender press of his lips making Louis crinkle his eyes fondly at him.

 

“And I can’t wait to totter around this house with you, looking for our glasses and yelling at each other to turn our hearing aids on. I want to grow old with you.”

 

With a contented sigh, Harry snuggles into him. His face nuzzles against Louis’ neck and Louis wraps his arms tightly around his boy, thinking about how Harry will still belong in this exact spot in forty, fifty, sixty years’ time.

 

“I want to grow old with you, too.”

 


End file.
